Once Upon a Time in Storybrooke: Beauty and the Beast
by BelleFrench
Summary: In a Storybrooke without curse, Mr. Gold, the most powerful man in town, is considered incapable of love. But when Belle French, for save her drunk father, accepts to work for him, things begin to change. Soon, Belle and Mr. Gold begin to feel something for each other, but someone is trying to divide them... Story translated from Italian, sorry for mistakes. Hope you like it :)!
1. The Deal

Belle French finished to wash the last plate, then she closed the tap in order to listen in a better way. There were no problems for that, when her father was drunk he didn't care to make the less possible noise to hide it, but that day the silence was unnatural. She knew Maurice was drunk, she had heard him entering in the house one hour later stumbling in the furniture and swearing against everything on his way with a so furry and trailed voice leaving nothing to doubt of.

It had been always in this way, as long as she could remember. Belle could count on her fingers every time she saw her father sober, or at least not too tight. He had always drunk, but from the moment his wife died things collapsed. Belle had lost her mother when she was six, killed by a cancer after an awful life with a man who had always humiliated and abused her. Often Belle wondered why she had married him, if after the marriage she had done nothing but be beaten; but the thing that surprised her the most was that Maurice truly loved his wife, even thought he enjoyed turning her livid, and that he drowned more and more in alcohol the grief for having lost her.

But it was no use to wonder what it could or it could not be. The problem remained: her father was always drunk, and this had awful consequences on everything. Not only on Maurice's health or on the one of Belle herself, when she hadn't the good sense of be silent and stay away from him, but also on things. Generally, when he was drunk, he didn't lose the chance to destroy everything that bothered him, and the noise following that was deafening.

Instead, that day, everything was silent. Maurice was locked in his bedroom from more than an hour, and he didn't walk out yet. For a few moments, Belle heard indistinct moaning with some loud swearword or curse, but from almost half an hour everything was silent.

Belle was more and more worried; that situation was not normal, she was beginning to wondering, with crescent fear, if her father, his mind dim by alcohol, had done some stupid thing without she noticed it…

She took off her apron, trying to be brave, and she walked out from the kitchen. During the nineteen years she had lived, she learned that it wasn't judicious walking around Maurice when he was drunk, but that strange silence worried her. She went fast upstairs, walking through the not so long passage, standing in the end in front of her father's bedroom. She drew her cheek close to the door, remaining to listen: nothing.

She took a breath deeply, deciding to knock.

- Dad?- she called.

No answer.

- Dad, are you alright?- she asked, louder, but again she didn't receive any answer.

Without waiting anymore, Belle opened the door, entering fast, but she stopped on the threshold. Her father was alright. Maurice was sitting on the bed, his stained shirt unbuttoned on his chest, bathed in sweat. He held on his hand a bottle of beer half empty, and his look was staring at the wall.

It needed some time, before he noticed Belle.

- What fuck do you want?- he mumbled without looking at her, drinking a gulp of beer.

- I…I'm sorry, I've knocked, but…- she tried to justify herself, but he glanced her a furious look with reddened eyes.

- And did I tell you that you could enter, whore?- he shouted.

Belle clenched her lips and closed her eyes, ignoring the insult. She was used to be insulted by her father, and now she didn't care anymore. Truly, she couldn't remember that Maurice ever called her with her name…

- I…I only wanted to know if you were alright…- she murmured, being prepared to walk out from the room, but her father didn't permit it. Maurice raised up fast, walking up to her with a tottering but firm stroll.

- Did you want to know if I am alright?- he yelled, arriving to two centimetres from her nose, and Belle found herself paralyzed by fear.- Did you want to know if I am alright? No, I'm not alright, you stupid girl! I'm _absolutely _not, you fucking little ass! How the hell could you think I'm alright, when I have to give a lot of money to a bastard who takes advantage of my disgraces, can you tell me how?!

Belle swallowed; her survival instinct yelled to say nothing and to immediately go out from here, but the words _a lot of money _and _bastard _had insinuated a terrible presentiment.

- W-what?- she faltered, fighting against any form of good sense.- To who you have to give money?

- To an ass to who I've asked a loan - Maurice mumbled, walking away from her and showing her his shoulders.

- A loan?

Suddenly, Belle understood: her father was again in trouble. It wasn't the first time. His boundless love for alcohol often pushed him to do stupid things, to be sunken by debts. More than one time they found themselves without light or heating because he didn't arrive to pay the bills, often they had been evicted because of not-paid rent, and Belle had lost the count of the times strangers with whom Maurice had debts irrupted in their house and threatened them. They always went out from those troubles, but she felt like she had a slip-knot around her neck, a slip-knot that was tightened day by day.

Her father and her had nothing, nothing more to give. The only thing they had was the little flower shop in which Belle, after have finished the high school, had begun to work too. Truly, now she was the only one who worked in it all the time, because her father was too busy in wasting money at the bar with his friends. Sometimes she thought to run away, she planned to escape from that life that gave her on deceptions and humiliations, but she never did it. Partly because she loved her father and she could not thinking what would have happened to him if she left; partly because leaving that life and the flower shop would have been like betraying her mother's memory. Her mother loved flowers, she always said that each flower has its meaning and that they are the most beautiful and meaningful gift a person could receive.

The flower shop was the only thing reminding her her mother, and their source of gain. If they had lost it, so they wouldn't know how to do.

- Yes, a loan. Are you deaf?- Maurice mumbled.

- To who?

- Aren't you able to think about your fucking things?!- Maurice yelled, looking furiously at her.

- These _are _my things!- Belle yelled, not knowing where she found all that brave. She never rebelled against her father in this way, before that.- Even thought you often forget about this, I am part of this family, if you like it or not! And if you have got debts, me too I'm in trouble with you! How do you think to do to solve the problem?

Before she could realize it, Maurice ran against her, taking the collar of her t-shirt and pushing her against the wall. He drew his face close to his daughter's one, and Belle had to repress an effort of vomit when she smelt her father's breath sending out a nauseating smell of alcohol.

- I don't know how I will solve the problem, you harlot!- Maurice growled.- I don't know, the only thing I know is that that pig will come here in a hour and I will have to do my best to stop him, so don't bother me with your wailings, do you understand? And now, get out, go and clean!

Without expecting an answer, he rudely pushed her out of the room and closed the door behind her shoulders.

She took a breath, trying to gain breath and to think at the same time. Moe said that that man to who he asked a loan, whoever he was, would come here in a hour. Her father was drunk, how the hell he could think that he would solve the problem?! Damn it, they would end to live down in the middle of the road, she _knew _it, they would lose everything…But she couldn't let it happen. She had to find a way to solve the problem, she had to…

Belle felt her heart jumping to her throat when she suddenly heard someone ringing the bell.

_It's him!_

She went rapidly downstairs, running to open the door. Her brain began to work with breakneck speed: what she would do? She couldn't permit that that man meet her father when Moe was in those conditions, it would be a disaster! She would think at something, she would tell a lie. She would say that her father was ill, that he wasn't at home, or that…

She opened the door. Belle couldn't say if she felt relief or desperation.

Relief, because the one who had knocked surely had nothing to do with her father and his debts; desperate, because it didn't mean that he was a less fearful plague.

The person who had knocked and now stood in front of her with a smile that began from a hear and finished to the other, leaned against the door's jamb like it was his own home, was a twenty-five-year-old young man, tall and brawny, with a protruding chin and short dark brown hair.

- Hey, Belle!- he said, boldly.

- Hello, Gaston…- she murmured, trying to smile.

Gaston was one of the player of the football team of Storybrooke, the little town where Belle lived. They knew each other since they were children, but she never thought he was a kind guy. Gaston was one of those guys, as her fried Mary Margaret Blanchard would have say, who are nothing but _brainless fops_.

- Why…why are you here?- she asked, hoping that her father stayed where he was and didn't see him. It would have been the drop that would have overflow the vase.

- I came to make you an indecent proposal…- he giggled.

Belle cursed herself, feeling she was blushed.

- Sorry…what…what have you said?- she faltered, not believing her hears.

- Hey, be quiet, I was joking!- the boy laughed.- I was meaning that I wanted to make you a proposal of an _indecent date_.

Belle raised her eyebrow.

- I believe I don't understand…- she said, but the truth was that she had understood very well what that run-away-from-the-zoo gorilla wanted from her.

- Try to figure it: you and I at dinner in a luxurious restaurant, I have my father's credit card…So we can know each other and you can accept my invite to watch a movie together at my home. What do you think?- Gaston winked at her, exhibiting a smile that would have moved to envy any toothpaste's advertising.

_I think you should disappear from my sight!_, yelled a voice in her head, but Belle forced herself to maintain a kind expression. Ignoring the fact that the part of going at his home _absolutely _didn't convince her, that embellished chimpanzee had asked her to go out being sure she would have accepted. God, how much she detested people like him, arrogant and too sure of themselves, when it would be better if they walked back and went to hide themselves in a hole! Weren't the other categorical _no _of the other times enough for him?

- Thank you, Gaston, but I think I must decline. Bye - she said, beginning to close the door, but Gaston suddenly put his foot between the door's jamb and its border.

- Listen! If you can't tonight, we can do it tomorrow, or the day after…- he said, trying to re-open the door, and Belle had great trouble to stop him. She always forgot she fought against a football player!

- No, sorry, Gaston…

- So, maybe Saturday…

- I'm serious, Gaston. I'm sorry, but it is really a bad period…

- But…

- Bye!

With great effort, Belle finally succeeded to close the door. She leaned against it with her shoulders, taking a breath of relief. That time she also succeeded to stop him, but she was beginning to not tolerate him anymore.

Gaston courted her since she was fifteen. At the beginning, Belle, who was only an immature and dreamer teenager, felt allured by his attentions, but she soon understood that he wasn't the man for her. Yes, she couldn't say that Gaston wasn't a handsome guy, gallant, athletic, but behind the appearances nothing was hidden. He wasn't cultured nor particularly intelligent, he was insupportably proud only because his father was rich and, Belle suspected, instead of her like a person, he was only interested to go to bed with her. And, if she was wrong on this point, she knew she had nothing to share with him. Gaston was exuberant and impulsive, he only thought to sport and to have a good time with his friends; on the contrary, she always considered herself like a thoughtful person, she loved reading and she had a few friends, but good friends.

So, they two were like the ocean and the desert. But Gaston didn't seem to understand it, and he never lost the chance to invite her to go out, every time receiving a categorical _no_.

She heard the bell ringing again, and rage began to raise inside her.

She turned around, opening the door furiously.

- Listen, Gaston, I said that…- she began to say, but words died on her lips when she saw who was standing in front of her. It wasn't Gaston; it was much worse.

Belle needed just one look to understand that it was _him_ the man her father was expecting, the man with whom he had a debt; just one look to understand that, for them, now, there was no hope anymore.

The man at the door was Mr. Gold. Belle never talked to him, nor she had ever meet him personally, but she knew very well his reputation. Mr. Gold was a forty-year-old man, tall and thin, and now he was smiling at her with that strange smile, almost a sneer, that had become famous in all Storybrooke. Exactly like all the few times she saw him in the streets of the town, he was very elegant in his usual suit as dark as death. He was a limp, and he walked with a cane with silver handle to support himself.

Mr. Gold was the man whoever would wanted to evict, the last person with whom a human being with mental health would wanted to have something to do. Her friend Ruby always joked saying that he scared the children, that for them he was worse than the Boogieman, and, alas!, she wasn't too far from the truth. Mr. Gold was the one who held the town of Storybrooke. At the first sight, he could appear like a good man, always inclined to help people, but in the end he was revealed to be nothing more than a pawnbroker and an usurer. Belle didn't know anyone who hadn't had something to do with him, with his deals and his contracts that, if you couldn't respect it, surely didn't give you a happy ending.

And now, he had made a deal with her father.

- Good-morning - said Mr. Gold, with a plate voice.

- G-good-morning…- Belle murmured, trying to not look into his dark eyes.

- This is Maurice French's house, if I'm right…

- Y-yes. It is.

Mr. Gold glanced at her.

- And where is he?

- He…

- Oh, Mr. Gold!- said a furry voice at her back, and Belle felt her blood freezing in her veins. She turned around, only to see her father, drunk, coming downstairs tottering, with a smile on his lips so bright and so false at the same time.- Welcome, I was expecting you…

- I know - he sneered.- This young lady was saying me that…

- Young lady? This fright?- Maurice laughed coarsely, pushing away Belle, who had become very pale and couldn't stop looking at the two men.- She will never bother you, I promise…I always keep my promises, you know?

- I hope you do - Mr. Gold answered, and Belle believed to notice a strange threat hidden in his voice.

- Of course. Come in, let's go in the living room, here we will talk without being disturbed…You!- he then yelled to his daughter.- Don't look at us like a stupid girl, go to the kitchen and take us…ahem…I'm sorry, Mr. Gold, do you drink?

- No, if I can evict it.

- Oh, well, so…Take us a coffee. Now!

She needed this last yell to run immediately in the kitchen. Belle began to take cups and saucers, while she heard the steps of the two men walking in the living room and closing the door. She would have given anything to know what they were saying to each other, even thought, considering her father's conditions and their desperate financial situation, nothing was left to imagination.

She knocked over the coffee on the floor and left the teaspoons falling a thousand times because of her hands trembling. When finally she finished to clean up the mess she had done, she held the tray and she entered in the living room.

She didn't like what she saw.

Mr. Gold had a satisfied expression, a little _too _satisfied expression; by his way, her father seemed sober because of his preoccupation and desperation.

- Give me a little more time!- Maurice was begging in that moment.

- The time you've had has been disgusting enough, Mr. French - said Mr. Gold, always with a plate voice. Belle put the tray on the table. Mr. Gold looked at Moe.- I always respect my deals, instead of you. If you haven't the money, so it means I'll take your shop.

- No!- begged Maurice.

- No!- Belle couldn't help but yelling.

Mr. Gold glanced at her.

- Please, not the shop…- begged Moe.- It is all we have…we'll end up in the middle of the road…

Mr. Gold didn't seem to pay him attention anymore; he continued to look at Belle. He briefly glanced at the tray, then he looked first to the girl then to her father.

- Your daughter seems to be good at work…- he said.

Maurice looked surprised.

- I have another deal to propose…- said Mr. Gold.- I will left you shop…

- Oh, thank you!- exclaimed Maurice.- Thank you, I am…

- For a price.

Moe swallowed.

- What price?

- My price…is her - Mr. Gold sneered, indicating the girl. Belle looked speechless. Moe stood up, furious.

- You damned pig!- he yelled.- What do you think, to go to bed with my daughter?!

Mr. Gold didn't seemed so impressed.

- I've never said that _I want to go to bed with your daughter_, as you say. I'm not looking for…love - he sneered.- I'm looking for an assistant. This is the deal: your daughter will work at my shop for a year, without receiving money, paying your debts, Mr. French…In exchange, I won't touch your shop. What do you think? I believe this is a good exchange, don't it?

Moe blushed; Belle couldn't say if it was because of the alcohol or the rage.

- Get out!- he shouted, indicating the door.- Leave!

Mr. Gold stood up from the sofa, without stopping sneering.

- As you wish…

- No, wait!- Belle yelled suddenly, like she was saying these words without wanting. She ignored the furious look of her father, and stepped in front of Mr. Gold.

- If I will work for you…- she murmured, looking in his eyes.- The _Game of Thorns _will be safe?

- You have my word - Mr. Gold sneered.

Belle took a long breath.

- And you have mine.

- I forbid it!- growled Maurice.

Belle looked at him with decision, a sense of veiled challenge.

- No one decides my fate but me - she said before returning looking at Mr. Gold.- Alright, then. I'll work for you for a year.

Mr. Gold looked at her, a satisfied giggle on his lips.

- Deal.


	2. First Day

- Are you crazy?!

At Ruby's exclamation, everyone in the room turned around glancing at their table.

- _Hush!_- said Mary Margaret, while Belle blushed, embarrassed.

Sometimes, the three friends met in the early morning before going to work to have breakfast together. That day, Belle felt that she particularly needed that meeting: it was her first day of work at the shop of that vulture, and she had to confess to be _a little _scared. There was no use to say that, when she had told to Ruby and Mary Margaret what happened and about her deal with Mr. Gold, the two girls had become mad.

- I prefer the question didn't become the town's gossip, Ruby…- she whispered, glancing at the room.

- In this damned little town, gossip is like the wind, in a few moments everyone in Storybrooke will know it…- said Ruby.

- Well, in this case we can say that I prefer it didn't become the town's gossip _too early_…

Ashley Boyd, with her body become a little plump because of her just passed pregnancy, came to their table with a busy expression.

- What can I bring you, girls?- she asked, writing something on her notebook.

- For me, a cup of coffee with cream and a piece of cake, thank you…- said Mary Margaret.

- Me too, I would like a cup of coffee, and take me also a toast and an orange juice…- said Ruby.

- Only a cappuccino for me, please…- Belle murmured.

- Hey, are you on a diet?- asked Ashley.

- No, I'm not, it's only that today I'm not very hungry…- Belle said; she felt like her stomach has been closed.

- It's me that I should be on a diet, look at me…- Ashley muttered, indicating her plump body.- I've become a whale. I thought after the pregnancy I was going to stop being like a hot-air-balloon, but…

- Don't talk like that, you're beautiful…- Belle smiled.

- Yes, you are. And then, Sean likes plump girls, if I remember well…- Ruby giggled.

Ashley sighed, not too convinced about that.

- I'm sure you soon will return as thin as you were…- Mary Margaret tried to say.

- Thanks, I hope you're right…

- How is little Alexandra?- Belle asked.

- Oh, she's fine, she sleeps and eats all the day…- Ashley smiled. Then, becoming again serious:- You…- she said, looking at Belle.- Are you sure you are alright? You're so pale…Are you sure you don't have fever?

- I…No, I'm not…- Belle faltered, embarrassed.

- Leave her in peace, Ashley…- Ruby murmured.- Today is a bad day…

- Why? What happened?

- Don't worry, you soon will understand everything…- Mary Margaret sighed.

- Uhm…okay…I'll bring you your breakfast…

- Thank you, Ashley.

When the waitress was gone, the three girls became silent. Belle began to fiddle nervously with a paper napkin, not looking at Ruby and Mary Margaret's faces.

- So…- the teacher whispered after a few seconds.- Would you want to explain us how the hell you ended up working for Mr. Gold _without being paid_?

- I told you: my father isn't able to pay the debts he has with him and I accepted to be his assistant in his shop for a year…- Belle murmured.

- God, one year in that dark and dusty place with that despicable man…- Ruby made a grimace.- I think it would drive me mad…or that I'd throw myself under a train before that…

- I thought about this, but lying down on the rails would not save the _Game of Thorns_…- Belle giggled nervously.

- But wasn't there any other way to solve the problem?- asked Mary Margaret.- What did your father say about this?

- Nothing, it's a week he doesn't want to talk with me…- Belle confessed; after Gold was gone, Maurice broke out in a crisis of furious rage, yelled against her that she was a betrayer, that she played the game of that usurer…Belle tried to protest, but Moe slapped her and went to the bar, returning home only when it was night, more drunk than he was before.

- Seriously, Belle, are you sure of what are you doing?- Ruby stared at her.- Everyone in town know Mr. Gold, and he is not that kind of man who is satisfied with a simple help in his shop…That man could be capable of everything, are you sure he doesn't want to go to bed with you?

- This is what my father and I have thought about, when he demanded the deal, but he assured us that_ he wasn't looking for love_, as he said…And he promised that, if I'd work for him, the flower shop would be safe…

- Never believe in men's promises…- said Mary Margaret, suddenly becoming sad. Belle and Ruby glanced at each other's face, then Belle took her hands in hers.

- What's the matter? Again that David Nolan?

Mary Margaret nodded, without looking at her.

- He continues to postpone…- she whispered, staring at the table.- He wants that we meet secretly, he says he loves me, but he hasn't the courage to leave his wife…

- I'm sure he soon will find the courage to leave Kathryn, don't worry…- said Belle. Ashley returned to the table and brought them their breakfast. Ruby ravenously attacked her toast.

- I'm agree, never believe in men's promises…- she said, her mouth completely full.- Especially if the man we are talking about is Mr. Gold…

- Please, girls, stop now!- Belle murmured, lying against the chair's back.

- We are only trying to reason…- said Mary Margaret, blending the sugar in her coffee.- You too know Mr. Gold, Belle. You know he has no scruple, he's not moved to pity to anyone if he has got business, if there is a deal to respect…

- To me, Mr. Gold isn't human…- Ruby said.

- What are you saying?

- To me, he is a werewolf!- Ruby giggled.

Mary Margaret sighed.

- You have some serious problem, Ruby, I assure you…

- Alright, maybe not a werewolf, but he could be a serial killer - she giggled.- Well, this is a positive thing…- she looked at Belle.- When you'll mysteriously disappear, poor Sheriff Graham will have no problems in finding your broken up corpse…

- Ruby, please, stop saying these stupid things!- Belle broke out.- I'm nervous on my way, right? I don't need that you…- Belle looked at the clock.

- OH, MY GOD!

In front of the incredulous sight of her friends, Belle stood up, beginning to seek something in her bag.

- Damn it, I'm late!

- Ouch…it isn't good…- Ruby said.

- I'm sorry, girls, but I have to run away…Ashley, how much is it?

- Don't worry, Belle, I'll pay for you…- said Mary Margaret.

- Thank you, tomorrow I'll give you the money, I promise…Now, sorry, but I have to go. Bye!- Belle wore her jacket and run to the door.

- Let us know how it worked!- Mary Margaret yelled, shaking her hand.

- And when you see he has got fangs and he begins to howling, run away!- shouted Ruby.

Belle run in the streets of Storybrooke, cursing herself for not having paid attention to the clock and Mr. Gold's pawnshop for being so far from the place where Ashley worked. She risked many times to stumbling on the pavement and, when she found herself in front of a red traffic-light, she didn't care about it and jumped on the asphalt beginning to cross the road. A car stopped abruptly at two centimetres from her, and the driver began to sound the horn, being furious.

- Sorry!- yelled Belle, without stopping running.

The driver lowered the window, being prepared to shout against her, but he stopped when he saw who was that stranger. Belle, on her way, was so busy to run that she didn't notice who had risked to invest her: Gaston.

In the end, she arrived breathless to Mr. Gold pawnshop. She opened the door and she fast entered, while the bell was ringing to announce her arrival. Belle stopped on the threshold, trying to gain breath.

As she feared about, the pawnbroker was here. Mr. Gold showed her his shoulders, but he slowly turned around when he heard the door opening. Belle suddenly felt like she was defenceless, when his cold look arrived at her with a severe expression that left nothing to doubt of.

- I'm sorry…- Belle murmured.- I'm late…

- I see - answered Mr. Gold, staring first at the clock then at her.

Belle looked at her feet, standing on the door's threshold.

- What are you doing here? Come in, you're here to work, not to lose the time you've wasted enough…

- I'm sorry…- Belle whispered, walking in.

Again, Ruby had right: Mr. Gold's pawnbroker was truly a dark and dusty place, and it seemed less large than it was because of the things in every corner. Belle looked around, trying to remember if she had ever seen something here in a friend's house. Mr. Gold truly held Storybrooke: how many desperate people had left here their most precious things for a few money!

She was too busy in looking around that she barely noticed that Mr. Gold gave her a broom and a cloth. Belle glanced at those things, surprised, then she gave a questioning look to the pawnbroker.

- What is it?- she asked.

- It's simply what you'll need to do your job from this moment - he answered with a sneer. Only at that moment Belle completely realized what was the deal. And she thought she would be a shop assistant, or something like this! It was more humiliating: she was the caretaker of that despicable man!

- It wasn't the deal!- she protested.- You told me you needed an assistant…

- I do - Mr. Gold answered, calmly.- I need a caretaker in my shop. Do you know what a caretaker does, dearie?- he sneered again, enjoying her incredulous and furious expression.- A caretaker works all the day and does what her master says her to do. So, come on, dearie, you can start…

- But…- Belle faltered.- I…I believed that…that you needed a shop assistant, or…

Mr. Gold didn't let her to finish, and he started laughing.

- I can manage my clients without your help, thanks - he said.- I don't need to put a girl at the counter to make my business…If you have not any other questions, I would say you can start with your work…

He made her a gesture with his hand meaning at the same time _shut up _and _don't bother me_.

Belle grinded her teeth, starting to wash the floor. She felt like she was betrayed, she would like to walk away from that horrible place, but soon later rage left its place to good sense. She was here because she had to save the _Game of Thorns_, she said to herself. And because of this, she had to be brave and to go on.

When she finished to clean the floor, Mr. Gold began to say her what she had to do. Soon, Belle understood that, exactly like she suspected, her boss was a man who barely spoke, and only just when he needed to say something. Only a few sentences to say her what she had to do, and then in the shop everything returned to be silent, while the only noise was that of object she put on their right place and that of the pawnbroker's steps. Belle barely saw him during all the day. Often Mr. Gold vanished in the shop's back, and she heard only his cane's trailing on the floor's planks. That day, not many client walked in the shop, but Belle didn't dislike this. People who walked in the shop often went away crying, maybe leaving here an affective object, or sometimes she heard, from the shop's back where she hid, what they said to the pawnbroker with whom, she thought, they had made a deal they couldn't respect.

But what scared and irritated her the most was Mr. Gold's attitude. Not only he didn't care of people's grief, but he seemed to have pleasure from it, it seemed he didn't want anything but capturing people in his trap.

Belle tried to not care about it, and she continued to work without saying nothing.

At the end of the day, Mr. Gold decided to talk with her.

- I think you understood what you'll have to do, from this moment…- he said, while she was putting in a red velvet box a tea service.

Belle nodded, without looking at him.

- Everything must be cleaned and orderly, and you must put everything in its established place…

- Alright…

- If any clients arrives and I'm not here – even thought I doubt it would ever happen – you don't have to do nothing, you have to call me before…

- Okay…

- You must keep attention to anything you do and you touch, many things here are valuable. You must be careful when you handle them and not let them become dusty…

She nodded again.

- Ah, and you'll also skin the children I kidnapped and I trapped in the dungeon…

CRASH!

Belle left the cup falling from her hands, glancing shocked at Mr. Gold.

- It was a quip - he giggled, laughing of her shocked expression.- Not serious.

Belle took a breath of relief, trying to smile. That was incredible, she had to understand that it was a joke – a very bad joke! –, but that man scared her in a way that she truly believed…

She abruptly interrupted her thoughts, looking at her feet, now understanding what she had done. The cup she left falling wasn't broken like she thought, but it was chipped.

She went on her knees and took it from the floor, repressing a moan. Stupid, stupid girl, now he would dismissed her and goodbye _Game of Thorns_!

- I'm so sorry…- she murmured, showing the cup to Mr. Gold, who didn't seem to impressed from it.- It is…it is chipped…you can hardly see it…- she whispered, being prepared to be dismissed.

Mr. Gold said nothing nor he did anything. He looked at her for a while, remaining impassive. Then, glancing at her like he was looking at an idiot, he said with a plate voice:

- It's just a cup.

Belle took another breath of relief, standing from the floor and putting the cup in the box.

At the end of the day, Belle wore her jacket and walked out from the pawnshop, saying a _see you tomorrow! _that never received an answer.

When she found herself alone in the street, she felt her heart was become less heavy. Yes, without Mr. Gold being around her she felt much better. Belle breathed the evening air, then she began walking to home. She walked all along the pavement, turning on the right and leaving Mr. Gold's pawnshop at her shoulders.

Suddenly, someone took her arm. She tried to scream, but the yell died in her throat when she saw who was giving her a jerk.

- Gaston…!- she gasped.

She delivered herself from his hand.

- You scared me…- she murmured.

- So, it's true!- said Gaston, like he hadn't listened a word.- What they say in town it's true. You truly work for Mr. Gold!

Belle rolled her eyes. As Ruby and Mary Margaret had said, all Storybrooke knew it yet. Gaston took again her arm, giving her another jerk.

- What have you in mind?! Are you crazy?!- he yelled.

She furiously glanced at him, then she again delivered herself with decision.

- No, Gaston, I'm not crazy, and truly, it's you I think it's not normal - Belle made a grimace.- Yes, it's true, I work for Mr. Gold, and so what?

- So what?!- Gaston yelled.- Do you know who is that man? Do you know what he does? He'll drive you to ruin, Belle, he'll take you away from the ones who loves you, he'll make you as bad and cynical as he is! He'll ruin you, Belle!- he repeated.

She gave him a bad look, then she moved a step away from him.

- I think these aren't your things, Gaston!- she said.- Yes, I know who Mr. Gold is, but this have nothing to do with my job. We only made a simple deal, if you want to know it. And, by the way, this is _my _life, and if he'll ruin me, well, in this case it'll be only a problem of mine. So, don't dare to yell to me and give me such a jerk, do you understand?- she growled.

Without attending an answer, Belle turned around and began to run away, walking away as far as she could from an incredulous Gaston. When she was sure she was far enough from the embellished gorilla, she began to walk slowly to her home.

First of all, she arrived late, then she found she was a caretaker, she had been the victim of a stupid joke and she had chipped a cup, risking to be dismissed, and in the end she met Gaston who made a soap opera's scene.

No, it wasn't her day.


	3. Wrong Idea

Regina Mills always considered herself an intelligent and sharp woman. She knew very well her capacities, her intelligence and her charisma she had always used to obtain everything she wanted, since she was young. Many people would have said she was a bad person; Regina preferred to consider herself just ambitious.

Regina put absent-mindedly some papers in her writing-desk's drawer, and while she was doing it she glanced at one of the photos who smiled at her from the computer's left. The photo was a family portrait of many years before, in which she, who was only an inexperienced and bright twenty-year-old girl, smiled between her parents, Henry and Cora Mills. Regina looked at her mother's face: Cora had always had a hard and severe expression, even thought she was smiling. If only she could see her now, she said to herself, her mother would be proud of her. When she had finished the high school, Regina had done everything she could do to not remain forever an unknown and anonymous provincial girl. She had worked and been patient, she had made deals and she had silently schemed, to succeed in becoming emancipated, to arrive to a position, to become _someone_. It had been her ambition that led her where she was now, to made her the most important person in town.

Now, at almost forty years old, Regina Mills was the Storybrooke's Major. It was a position she had gained after many years of work and sacrifices, in which she had postponed everything and everyone – even love.

Regina Mills wasn't married; she had never been and she never went too near to be. She had renounced to love twenty years before, when her fiancé, Daniel – a young worker her mother could never tolerate, because of his belonging to a social class lower than the rich middle class to which Regina belonged –, the only man she had ever loved, died in a tragic work accident. From that moment, Regina swore to herself she would never betrayed Daniel's memory, she would never permitted to another man to become part of her life, she would never loved anyone else – and so she did.

The major had put her career before everything and everyone, until she had had the most important position of all Storybrooke. But, in the end, loneliness had been stronger. After her mother's death, followed a few years later by her father's, Regina had begun to felt more and more lonely, she felt an emptiness in her heart that seemed unbridgeable. It was why, she thought, she decided to adopt a child.

Regina would never forgot the day when, ten years before, she walked out from the Boston's orphanage with a baby in her arms, a little baby that seemed so fragile and delicate she feared to skim him. She named her son Henry, after her father.

Now, finally Regina could say she had had everything from life. A steady job, an important position and a son she adored. A life she had built with blood and sweat, apparently so perfect and steady…but in reality so fragile.

In her position, she needed to make only just a little mistake, a false step, to fall in the abyss.

Regina Mills grinded her teeth, looking at the papers on the writing-desk. Only one false step, to ruin her life. And now, she had done that false step.

Only because of one, single mistake, she was going to lose everything she had. Months later, she had received the news – more or less reliable – of a deposit of petrol not too far from Storybrooke's suburbs that, if properly used, would have had a lot of money for herself and all the town, assuring her the sure re-election at the end of her task. But not all the citizens wanted to give money for something that wasn't sure to succeed, and the firm that held the deposit gave her a price that she couldn't pay. So, Regina made a deal with the only person in all the town who was rich enough to could spend money in that business: Mr. Gold.

Mr. Gold was the only person she knew who could pay such a price, and Regina had been forced to made a deal with him. At the beginning, she had many doubts about that thing. Mr. Gold's fame came fifteen minutes before him wherever he went, and surely he hadn't a good reputation. Regina knew he was rich, but of course she couldn't not listen to the gossip about him – more of them being revealed true – that saw his richness as a dirty gain made by more or less legal deals that had ruined many people. But, even thought his reputation of an usurer scared her, in the end she decided to made that deal. As she did every time before concluding a business, she calculated every positive or negative aspect of the thing, and she finally accepted the deal Mr. Gold had proposed to her: money in exchange of the twenty-five percentage of the gain the deposit had given, or alternatively the restitution of all the money with interests.

Regina had hesitated, but she finally accepted the deals: she had calculated everything perfectly, she had no doubt that the business had succeeded, and in a few time she could give the money back to that snake.

But she was wrong.

The director of the firm holding the deposit was nothing but a liar, and the business succeeded in nothing. Regina tried to hide the thing to the town, and she partly succeeded in it: no-one else in Storybrooke knew about it. No-one, except for her and Mr. Gold.

Even thought she tried to hide it to him, in the end that worm came to her. He had heard that there was been problems with the business, he had said, with that usual, enervating, heedless expression. The ones who said that Mr. Gold wasn't moved to pity for anyone were right: he didn't care a damn of Regina's begging nor of her promises to give him the money in the future. He wanted back his money, immediately.

And Regina did it; but to do it, she had to use money destined to the public financial resources.

Now, she knew she was truly ruined: soon, the thing would be found, and she would ended up in jail. She would have lost everything she had worked for with so sacrifice, _everything_, her life, her home, her job…her son.

Yes, surely they would took Henry away from her, she thought, feeling tears beginning to fall from her eyes. That Emma Swann would have won, and she would never saw her boy again. From the moment Henry's natural mother arrived in town, Regina could never live in peace. She lived always fearing that Emma Swann, now the new Storybrooke's Vice-Sheriff, succeeded in finding an excuse, any excuse permitting her to have her son back.

If what Regina did was found, Swann would have been the first person to know it, and she would immediately take back Henry.

- Mom?- said a voice.

Regina Mills looked up, wiping her tears away. Her son stood in front of her office. She had told him many times he hadn't to disturb her while she was working, and in another occasion she would have reproached him, but in that moment the only thing she wanted to do was to take him in her arms and cuddle him.

- Henry…- she murmured, trying to maintain her voice firm.- Henry, sweetheart, why are you here?

He looked at her.

- I only wanted to see you, that's all…- he said.- Why are you crying?- he asked after a while.

- What? Oh, no, I…I'm not crying, sweetheart…- she said, dry nervously her eyes with a handkerchief.- I've only a cold, that's all…

Henry didn't answer, continuing to look at her. Regina tried to smile at him.

- What do you have in your hand?- she asked.

- A fairytale book - he said, showing her a big book.- I took it from the school's library, today…Would you like to see it?

Regina nodded, and Henry smiled, running to her. She took him in her arms, embracing him, while he opened the book.

- Do you know? I found a fairytale I never read before…It's titled _Beauty and the Beast_…

- Wow…it seems very interesting…- Regina said, placing a kiss on his brown hair.- What do you think, maybe we could read it this evening, don't we?

Henry nodded happily, continuing to read the fairytale book. Regina embraced him again, while she was feeling tears coming again at her eyes. No, she couldn't lose Henry. It was an injustice that for one, single mistake, she had to lose her son and everything she had built during her life.

She had to find a solution. She had to find a remedy for what she had done, and at the same time she desperately wanted revenge herself on Mr. Gold. It was his fault if her life was ruined, only his fault! She had to solve the problem, she had to…

Regina abruptly stopped her thoughts.

If Mr. Gold had had money to give to the deposit of petrol, so he surely had money to fill up the hole in Storybrooke's financial resources. Maybe, the solution to her problems could come with her revenge…

That was what she had to do: she had to be silent and patient. They said that Mr. Gold was a cynical and strong man, but everyone had weaknesses…and she had to do nothing but find his. When she had found his secrets, she could used these against him, for her own advantage.

She would have saved herself and her son, and she would have had her revenge.

When Belle had told them about her firs day, started a sonorous and boisterous laughter that had lasted several minutes before be _almost _stopped definitively.

- What a bloody rotten luck is staying near Mr. Gold!- she had giggled.

Granny had glanced at her granddaughter in a severe way, but it didn't served a lot. Belle didn't answered, and she maintained a sad and disconsolate expression during all the breakfast. In the end, Mary Margaret, who was always been more sensible than Ruby, put her hand on her shoulder.

- Come on, don't be sad!- she had said, with a reassuring smile.- It's normal that the first day isn't one of the bests, it could happen…I'm sure that in the future things will go better…

Belle had answered only with a grateful smile, hoping that her friend was right. She knew she couldn't resist an entire year in those conditions.

Unfortunately, Mary Margaret was wrong.

Things, if possible, went worst day by day. She tried to be on time, but almost every morning Belle arrived late. At the first time, she tried to give explanation to Mr. Gold, but these were always very vague, and often they were just a miserable _I'm sorry, I'm late_ murmured in the better way she could. Surely Belle couldn't tell him that she hadn't heard the alarm clock because she had been awaken all night long sitting in the kitchen waiting for her father coming home after a night of merrymaking, or that she had to walk around all Storybrooke in the darkness only to find Maurice, drunk and tottering, in some disreputable tavern of the town's suburbs. Surely Mr. Gold knew he had taken up the town drunk's daughter, but she didn't want to talk with him about her father's problems with alcohol. And, by the way, soon Belle learned that any explanation was useless with him. If she was late, so she hadn't any excuse, and she couldn't do nothing but tolerating the usual bad silent looking and starting immediately to work, completely blushed with shame.

Her job at the pawnshop became more and more humiliating, and sometimes she wanted to cry when she thought she had to resist an entire year in that way. Now she thought to be a perfect incapable person, because, even though she tried desperately, she never did anything well nor she seemed to improve. Mr. Gold always found something bad done, and in any case, there was always a little thing, an apparently insignificant detail that Belle haven't noticed that didn't satisfied him. There wasn't any little spot on the floor, any speck of dust on an ornament, any crease on a curtain he didn't make her to notice. Mr. Gold never seemed to be angry with her, he never shouted against her like her father would have done, but Belle learned to understand when something bothered him. When he noticed something wrong in what _she _should have to maintain in order, he began to angrily stare now at the ill omen's object now at her, until Belle decided to put a remedy on it.

It was like having a silent shadow that followed her wherever she went, and that controlled her in every moment.

Belle began to work in the early morning with her heart full of fear and bad mood, and she finished in the evening tired and more disconsolate than before. Mr. Gold never spoke to her, or he did only when he was forced to, but she felt his look of bother and reproach every time she made some disaster.

She was beginning to think that Ruby had some clairvoyance's power: every time she was near Mr. Gold, she always made a mess. She took an ornament from the highest furniture, and dust fell on her head; she tried to wash the floor and she fell on it because she stumbled over the carpet; she transported a heaviest bucket full of water and soap and she left it fall, filling up with water the entire pawnshop. That all, of course, under the omnipresent pawnbroker's eye, who stared at her like a killer stared at his victim. It was a curse!

Belle thought Mr. Gold should be desperate, if he continued to want a so incapable and awkward caretaker like her, without saying nothing about her disasters.

She thought things would have been in that way for an entire year, but she was wrong.

One day, at the end of the day, Belle was putting some Chinese porcelain vases on a shelf. She imposed to herself to being careful, when a strange carillon put on the other side of the pawnshop captured her attention. Belle remembered – or she thought to remember – she had saw it when she was a little girl, one day when she went at Ruby's house; did that carillon belong to Granny?

While she was trying to remember if she had saw it at Granny's house or not, she left fall the Chinese vase. Belle yelled, taking it one moment before it fell on the floor. She instinctively embraced it, taking a breath.

Mr. Gold rolled his eyes. Belle glanced at him.

- It's okay…- she murmured, trying to smile and putting the vase at its place.- Nothing happened…

- I'm glad about this…- said Mr. Gold, with a grimace.- You should have worked ten days minimum, to repay it…

Belle gave him a confused look.

- T-ten days?

- It should have been the minimum, don't you think?- he giggled.- I don't know if you have got any idea of how much those porcelains are, dearie, but I can assure you that they would have much weight on the debt you're paying…

- So…are you telling me…are you telling me that every time I break something, the days I have to work grow up?- Belle asked, indignant.

Mr. Gold giggled again, without stopping looking at her.

- It's the way things work here, dearie. If you break something, you have to pay it…don't you think?

- So…so the cup…?- Belle murmured.

- No, that was an accident because of my fault. But everything you will break, from this moment, it will go on your father's debt.

Belle stopped looking at him, grinding angrily her teeth. It was humiliating enough be forced to work without being paid for that usurer who took advantage from her father's disgraces, but that any mistake was signed on her count was an injustice!

- What's wrong, dearie?

Belle looked at him with hate.

- You…you're a bastard!- she yelled. Mr. Gold didn't seem to care.

- I know, they said me worst things than this, dearie…

- You…you have non scruple!- Belle shouted, not reasoning because of the rage.- You care so much of your money that you're so brave to blackmail me, to force me to work in this damned place, after you've profited of me yet!

- If I remember well, dearie, you wanted to work here…- Mr. Gold answered.

- Only because you threatened my father!- Belle yelled.- Only because you'd took our flower shop! It was the only thing we had, the only thing remaining of my mother! Do you know what means to love someone? Do you know? No, you don't, because you're a heartless and a soulless man, only a man without any scruple caring for money, you're a beast!

Belle took a breath; Mr. Gold remained impassive. Maybe she had said too much, but she didn't care. There were two week since she had those words in her heart and now, with rage, she felt a sense of liberation. She heard the pawnshop's clock striking the eight o'clock: time to close. For days that sound had been her consolation, and she had never wished to hear that like in that moment.

- Today I've finished!- she growled, taking her jacket and running to the exit. She went out without saying a word, closing noisily the door.

Mr. Gold sighed, looking down and seeing Belle's bag left on a chair. He rolled his eyes again. That little girl was so angry that she had forgot her bag with money and papers, that was incredible!

He again rolled his eyes, cursing himself, then he took the bag and he walked out from the pawnshop.

Maybe he could still catch her up…

Belle walked with decided and quick steps, fighting against the autumnal wind that ruffled her long brown hair and numbed her legs throughout her old torn jeans. She arranged her jacket's collar, trying to stop the rage. She was looking forward to be at home and make a good shower, maybe it would have helped her to calm herself.

She turned around the street's corner, finding herself in a long and narrow alley lane, in which there were dustbins and rubbish. It was eight o'clock p.m., and outside it was dark, and the only street lamp that illumined the alley lane wasn't enough to make light.

Belle looked all around, then she began to walk quickly. She didn't like that place.

She arrived almost running at the light made by the street lamp; she looked all around again, then she started to continue to walk, when she felt someone taking her shoulders and violently shrugging. She yelled before the stranger pushed her against the wall and the weak light illumined his face.

- Gaston!- Belle shouted, with a bit of rage. It was the second time he surprisingly shrugged her in that way, scaring her almost to the death. During the last weeks he went at her home ten times – making Maurice being furious – and he filled up her mobile phone with SMS and the telephone's secretary with messages. Now he wasn't dating her anymore, he was stalking her!

And now he had began to wait her outside her job's place. But that evening she wasn't in the mood of being gentle and kind.

She pushed him away.

- What the hell do you want?- she growled, leaving him surprised.

- Sorry, I…I only wanted to talk with you…

- There are other ways to talk with a person, you don't need to shrug me and push me against the wall!

Gaston remained surprised for a moment, then his face made an angry grimace.

- Why didn't you have answered to my messages?- he growled.

- What do you think I have to answer to someone who writes you just a _I love you_ without writing nothing else?

- Well, I don't know…- Gaston mocked her, faking of thinking about it.- I hoped you were intelligent enough to answer me that you love me too!

- No, if it isn't the truth!- Belle answered.

Gaston didn't answer, goggling for surprise. Then, on his face returned that angry grimace, and he shrugged again her shoulder, pushing her against the wall.

- Gaston, what are you doing?

- When will you understand?!- he howled.- When will you understand that I love you?!

- Gaston, leave me!- Belle tried to deliver herself.- Gaston! Leave me! You're hurting me! Leave me!

She continued to squirm, but it was useless. She was fighting against a football player who was three sizes bigger than her, it was impossible to struggle. With a growl, Gaston pushed her on the pavement, and Belle fell on the rubbish, among cans and pieces of glass. She groaned when she hurt her hand with a broken bottle. Belle tried to stand up and run away, but Gaston was faster than her, and having taking her arm he again pushed her against the wall. She coughed, falling on the pavement like an empty sack. Belle looked up, glancing with horror at Gaston beginning to bustling about with his trousers' belt.

- Now I'll teach you to respect me, you bitch…

He broke his sentence in the middle; Gaston goggled, then he fell on the pavement. At his back, Mr. Gold was slowly lowering his cane with silver handle.

He glanced first at Gaston the to Belle, who couldn't do nothing but gasping and looking at the boy's body with horror. Mr. Gold stooped, taking her arm and making her standing.

- Are you hurt?- he asked. Belle didn't answered. Mr. Gold noticed that her hand was bleeding.

- Come with me…- he said, pushing her by her arm. Belle made a few steps, without stop looking at Gaston.- What are you doing? That brainless bully will be alright, tomorrow he'll have only a bad headache! Come on!

Belle began to follow him, remaining silent.

With her great surprise, Mr. Gold led her again to the pawnshop. She believed that he would have left her in the street, or that he would take her to the hospital, but she finally decided that it was better that way. She was shocked, she knew she would have had too much fear in remaining alone in the middle of a dark and solitary street, and she would have been capable to invent a decent lie to tell to the doctors in order to justify her hurt.

Hurt that, she noticed, was very deep.

Mr. Gold silently led her in the pawnshop's back, where there was a sink. Without saying a word nor asking anything, he rolled up her jacket's sleeve in order to see her hurt. Belle saw that it began from her hand's span to her wrist.

Mr. Gold opened the water, and washed her hand. Belle groaned of grief because of the cold water on her bleeding hurt, and tried to step back, but Mr. Gold firmly took her wrist.

- The blood needs to be washed away…- he murmured.

Belle didn't answer and closed her eyes, trying to not think about the grief. After two minutes, Mr. Gold closed the water and wiped Belle's hand with a piece of paper. Without saying a word, under her confused and shocked look, he opened a shelf under the sink, taking a small plastic bottle, cotton and bandages. He opened the small bottle.

- Don't worry, it's disinfectant…- he said, noticing her interrogative and vaguely wary expression.- Who hell was that guy?- he asked then, putting some disinfectant on the cotton and pressing it on her hurt hand.

- Gaston…- she sighed, with a grimace of grief. _What the hell, it hurt!_

- Sorry, dearie, but this name doesn't tell me nothing…- Mr. Gold giggled.- Is he your boyfriend?

- No, he isn't…that's the problem…- Belle murmured, while Mr. Gold began to put a bandage on her hand.- He doesn't accept to receive a _no_…

- I think I've understood…

Mr. Gold finished to put the bandage on her hand, then he made her following him.

- Tonight the pawnshop has been open for too long…

They walked out in the street. Belle waited that the pawnbroker locked the door, then she started to leave. Mr. Gold stopped her.

- I'll take you home…- he said, without looking at her.- I wouldn't want you meet someone else who doesn't accept to receive a _no_.

Belle nodded, being silently happy. Even though Mr. Gold wasn't the best company she could hope, she was happy to walk with someone, that night. They silently walked together, without looking at each other. Belle noticed that Mr. Gold couldn't walk quickly because of his bad leg, so she tried to slacken her pace, adapting to his.

Only when they arrived in front of the door of her home Belle had the bravery to say something.

- Thanks…- she murmured.

Mr. Gold glanced at her hand.

- Tomorrow disinfect it again and change the bandage. See you on Monday.

Without saying anything else, Mr. Gold walked away. Belle remained thoughtful for a while, staying immobile in front of the door, the she entered.

She made a hot shower, staying for a long time under the water trying to reorder her thoughts. What she had to do with Gaston? Denounce him? She didn't want to think about this, not now. She felt so tired…

She dried herself quickly and she wore her pyjama. She wanted to phone Ruby or Mary Margaret, but the noise of the door opening, followed by the one of tottering steps and obscene curses told her that her father was home, as drunk as usual, and so she didn't need to made him furious with nocturne callings.

Belle locked herself in her bedroom in order to be forced to meet him; she didn't want to discuss with him. She got under the blankets and she put out the lamp, trying to sleep, but, even though she was so tired, she couldn't sleep.

She continued to think about Gaston, about his aggression…about Mr. Gold…

Except for what happened with the gorilla, Mr. Gold's rescue and his kindness of medicate her hurt and taking her home were the most shocking things of that night. Belle never expected he was capable of those things, especially after she insulted him. Suddenly, she felt herself like a worm to have yelled against him.

She looked at the weak light of the moon on her hand, thinking about Mr. Gold disinfecting and putting bandage on it. Maybe, she thought, she had a wrong idea of him…


	4. In the Arms of the Enemy

The clock on the hospital's wall stroke the four a.m. Gaston grumbled, shaking his head and putting a hand on it. There was no one in the hospital's passage, except for some nurses that sometimes walked near him with a busy expression. No one in the hospital seemed to be surprised of finding him here, more than one time he went to that place because of a brawl or a car accident due to his alcoholic driving. He went here with hurts that were more serious than a simple bump, and he went out more hurt than that time.

However, no black eye nor bruise never hurt him like that hit on his head of a few hour before. Doctor told him that he had a concussion of the brain. That old mad man wasn't too far of break him his head!

Gaston put his hand on his bandaged forehead, feeling his temples pulsing furiously. Mr. Gold almost broke his skull, only because he wanted to save that bitch! Did they have a relationship? So, that whore didn't work without being paid, oh no, he paid her going to bed with her!

Belle preferred that usurer to him, she preferred to be the whore of the man that had ruined many people they knew, rather than be his girlfriend!

All right, then, she could stay with her bastard, if that was what she wanted! He didn't care. But Mr. Gold had to pay. Oh yes, he would have shown him who he was, he would have shown him what meant being against Gaston Prince!

He had to pay!

xxx

That Sunday seemed to never finish. Belle couldn't sleep for all night long, turning under the covers without succeeding in relaxing, falling asleep only when there was the twilight and waking up only in the later morning. Strangely, her father didn't come to wake up her taking her out of the bed by her hair, as he did every time she decided to sleep more than she should have done. For a little while, Belle wondered if he knew what happened to her, but immediately she thought that it was impossible. There was no-one in that alley except for her and the two men, and surely Gaston wasn't so stupid to talk with someone about what he had done. It was Sunday, the flower shop was closed, probably her father was ruining his liver in some bar, she finally thought.

Belle spent all the day in her room, sitting on her bed trying to think about what she had to do. What did she have to do with Gaston? Denounce him? This would have been the right thing to do, but her financial situation didn't think the same. If she would denounced him, they surely would ended up in tribunal, and Gaston and his father, senator Prince, would certainly paid the best lawyers. And what about her?

With the money she had, she would have been lucky if they would have given her an office's lawyer. She would have lost, Gaston would have won and she would have been in the same situation, only with more debts than before. And, if it wouldn't been so, her father would never permit her to throw money away for such a thing. Belle decided she wouldn't tell anything to Maurice about what happened. Her father's irascible temper and his unhealthy passion for rum and tequila had always made impossible any form of civil conversation, and surely Maurice would give her the fault of everything. Belle remembered too well that night when, not seeing him returning home at the two a.m., she went out in search of him. She was only sixteen, and she had walked around all Storybrooke searching for her father, finally finding him in a tavern in the suburbs, so drunk that he couldn't stand. She tried to take him away but, seeing her, the other clients, who were as drunk as her father was, began to mock her, and to make her obscene compliments. One of them – a big man that Belle had never seen before, but then she found out to be one of her father's best friends of merry making – had called her in a more coarse and insulting way, and he tried to touch her bottom. At that point, Belle broke out in rage. She rapidly turned around and she gave him a punch on his face like she was a professional boxer, breaking his nose and making him bleeding from his mouth. She took her father's arm and she took him away before that man could react, but he shouted at Maurice that, because of that bitch of her daughter, he could forget the dollars he had won in billiards. When they returned home, her father broke out in rage, and he made her a black eye. He yelled at her that she was a stupid little girl that didn't give a damn to money and if that man tried to touch her, he had right, she was only a bitch.

She couldn't tolerate that Gaston remained without being punished, but she couldn't force him to pay for what he did. Again, she was forced to lower her head and be silent. It had always been so in her life. She had always been a loser.

But with Gaston there was something else that prevented her from enjoying that Sunday: Mr. Gold.

As long as her father was away from home, Belle had all the time to think quietly, and Mr. Gold was in the middle of her thoughts. She still couldn't believe of what he had done, _why _he had done this. If it would be someone else, _any bloody someone else_, so there would be nothing strange: it would be only a person who helped another in difficulty. But she was talking about Mr. Gold, what the hell!

Belle was old enough to be critical about what they said about incomprehension, difficult childhood, and other things. It was useless to have illusions, everyone in Storybrooke knew Mr. Gold, everyone knew what kind of man he was and that he never did anything for nothing. But what else he could want? He held her and her father, what else he could want he didn't have yet?

Belle wanted to talk with someone about it, to give vent to her feelings, to ask for help, but she couldn't. Ashley had too many problems on her own – nineteen years old, a temporary job, a baby girl to take care of and a fiancé as poor as she was –, and it would be impossible to talk about such a thing with Ruby or Mary Margaret. She knew what they would tell her, to be careful, to not trust him, and she couldn't say that they were wrong. Without speaking about werewolves and serial killers of that crazy girl of Ruby, she and Mary Margaret had always been right about her boss. Mr. Gold wasn't that kind of person who loved helping other people. He was that kind of man that, when he saw a dog crossing the road, speeded up and knocked him down. He was that kind of man that, when he saw someone falling, kicked him, instead of helping him. No-one had ever heard he did something without a second purpose. Every action he made was carefully calculated, everything was purposed to a personal gain.

Mr. Gold was Mr. Gold, nothing more, nothing less. So, why did he save her?

For the first time, Belle was looking forward that that Sunday ended and Monday arrived. After what happened, Mr. Gold couldn't say a word about, did he? Even thought, knowing whom she had to do with, it could be possible…

Anyway, what he did remained: Mr. Gold saved her from Gaston, and she could only be grateful to him. Maybe, she thought, her and her friends were wrong about him…Maybe, all Storybrooke were wrong…Maybe, Mr. Gold wasn't as bad as he appeared…

Belle made a grimace.

Maybe there were too many _maybes _in her reasoning.

xxx

That morning, Belle woke up two hours before the time she was usual, to succeed in arriving in time. If she didn't succeed in that way, well, she would be sure that she was a no-hope case…

Surprisingly, that morning she arrived in time at the pawnshop. Belle couldn't help a triumphant smile when she saw the incredulous expression in Mr. Gold's eyes while he was looking at her and then to the clock.

- What a pleasant surprise, dearie…- he said, with his usual, feigned indifference.- I was desperate to ever see you arriving in time…

- Never say never, Mr. Gold - Belle answered, jolly.

Mr. Gold didn't answer, showing her his shoulders while she put her bag down and took off her jacket. Belle saw some closed-with-adhesive-tape boxes laying on the floor; they should be arrived before the pawnshop opened, she thought.

- Some books arrived in the morning…- Mr. Gold said suddenly, scaring her.

Belle looked to the boxes again.

- I think it isn't necessary that I say you what you have to do…- Mr. Gold sneered, indicating an empty library against the pawnshop's wall. Belle stooped on the boxes, starting to take off the adhesive tape. She glanced at the library: the only empty spaces were the highest ones.

- I think I'll need a ladder…- she murmured, glancing at the pawnbroker.

- It's in the back, dearie - Mr. Gold answered, without looking away from the counter where there were some little boxes.

Belle stood up, walking in the back. There was a ladder, that kind of ladder used in libraries, woody and so heavy that she barely could take it out. Belle pushed it in the pawnshop carefully, hoping to not accidentally break some ancient and fragile object hitting it with the ladder. She put it against the wall, taking a breath. She took some books from the box and started to climb the stairs, holding the ladder with one hand. She glanced at Mr. Gold: he had just opened a box of red velvet, in which there were a tea service made of porcelain. Belle saw the pawnbroker taking a chipped cup and putting it a showcase at his back.

- I thought you'd throw it away…- she murmured, recognizing the cup _she _had chipped.

Mr. Gold glanced at her.

- Why would I have done this?

- Well, it is chipped…

- You said so, dearie, it hardly can be seen. And I'm not that kind of man who wastes things. At worst, I'll sold it to some old woman who'll use it for her cat…

Belle giggled briefly, then she began to climb again. The ladder was old and tottered. An abrupt step of the girl made the ladder dancing, and Belle, in the highest position, had to cling to the library.

Mr. Gold came near to her, slowly, glancing at her while she started again to put the books on the library. The ladder tottered again, and Belle remained unmoving.

- Do I have to expect you'll fall in my arms?- Mr. Gold giggled, when she started to move again. He didn't seem to notice how his question could sound.

- This _thing_ isn't sure!- Belle protested, taking a lock of hair away from her eyes.- When was it used the last time, during the Secession War?

- Yes.

Belle looked at him, smiling briefly because of his irony. She still held one book; she leaned out of the ladder trying to put it in the only empty place of the library. Belle sighed, reaching out her arm. The ladder tottered again. She lost her balance, she tried to cling to the library, but it didn't work. The ladder slipped on the floor and Belle fell.

She closed her eyes, being prepared to a hit on the floor that never arrived. Belle felt her falling being stopped abruptly before she touched the floor. She maintained her eyes closed listening to the noise of the ladder and some books falling, then she decided to reopen them, looking in Mr. Gold's eyes.

The pawnbroker glanced first at her, then to the ladder. Belle couldn't believe that. She was fallen…in Mr. Gold's arms!

He caught her before she fell on the floor.

Belle stayed surprised for a while; her eyes glanced again at Mr. Gold's. In a while, she roused herself, immediately standing up. Mr. Gold walked away from her, looking at his suit.

- Thank you…- she whispered, without looking at him.

Mr. Gold briefly glanced at her, with a little smile.

- No matter…- he answered, walking to the pawnshop counter.

Belle looked at the books and the ladder abandoned on the floor.

- I think…I think I should tidy up this mess…- she murmured, with a sorry smile.

Mr. Gold turned around, looking at her.

- There's no need. Books can wait until tomorrow - he said; he cleared his throat.- You were…you were right, this ladder isn't sure. I don't want you to get hurt…

He turned around again without saying nothing more, returning to the counter. Belle smiled shyly, stooping in order to take the books from the floor. Mr. Gold were right. She _literally _fell in his arms.

xxx

That night, Mr. Gold followed Belle a while after she went out from the pawnshop. She remained to look at him while he was closing the door.

- I'll take you home - he said, so strongly that he didn't admit a negative answer.

Belle looked surprised.

- Why?

- Well, because this world is full of people that don't accept to receive a _no _- Mr. Gold sneered, walking near to her.

Belle didn't answer, and continued to walk silently, adapting her walking to his lame's, looking at her feet.

- Does it hurt?- Mr. Gold asked suddenly, indicating her bandaged hand. Belle shook her head silently.

- And what about that idiot of yesterday? What do you think to do with him?

- Gaston will never bother me again…- Belle murmured, trying to look sure of what she was saying.

- How can you be sure of that?

- Why do you care so much?- she asked; after all, she didn't trust completely Mr. Gold.

- Well, we can say that it's difficult to find a good care-taker…- he giggled. Belle smiled; after all, she didn't dislike that black humour at all. She tried to say something, but a strange noise kept their attention. They were next an alley's corner, and Belle leaned out to see in.

There was a fight among drunks. Four or five of those men were soundly insulting each other, and there was no doubt that they would fight, if a thirty-year-old tall-with-dark-brown-hair-and eyes and apparently sober young man wouldn't put himself in the middle, trying to divide them.

Belle recognized with horror that one of those men was her father.

- Oh, no…- she murmured, running to him. The young man stopped Maurice's hand a while before it hit one of the other drunks.

- Fuck you, Jefferson!- Maurice muttered loudly, drinking wine from the bottle. Belle walked near to him, touching his arm.

- Dad, what…

- You!- Moe muttered, glancing at her angrily.- What are you doing here? Why aren't you at home to clean, you stupid, useless girl!

- Take him home, miss…- Jefferson said, looking furiously at Mr. French.- He has done enough, for tonight…

Belle tried to take her father away, but Maurice turned around and placed a slap on her cheek.

- Let me in peace, you nuisance! I can do by mayself…

- Dad, stop, you're drunk…

- I said that…- Moe tried to slap her again, but someone stopped his arm. He turned around, meeting Mr. Gold's eyes. He delivered himself.

- What do you want? Don't meddle!- he growled.- Ruin me hasn't been enough for you, you damned son of a bitch!

- I meddle how much I want, when I see some injustices…- Mr. Gold said quietly, looking at Belle. She realized having her hand still against her hit cheek.

- This is my family's business, don't mind of it!- Moe muttered.

- I mind, if a drunk beat a girl that is only trying to help him, only because he enjoys to do it!- Mr. Gold growled.

Belle looked shocked. Moe tried to say something else, but Jefferson spoke again.

- If you don't go away from here now, I call the police!- he threatened.

Moe didn't answer, but he turned around, looking furiously at Mr. Gold.

- Don't try to mind my business again, you bastard! And stay away from my daughter!- he muttered, drinking again from the bottle. He looked at his daughter, taking her shoulder and pushing her in front of him.- Come on, you, walk! At home, go!

Belle obeyed, looking at the pavement and beginning to walk to her home, followed by Maurice muttering curses. She turned around to look back for a while, glancing at Mr. Gold with sorry eyes. He answered with a like-a-sneer smile, but that in that moment seemed to her the most beautiful and comforting thing of the world.


End file.
